Because He's My Best Friend
by Anarchy Duck
Summary: ONE-SHOT/COMPLETE. Stan goes missing and Kyle refuses to give up on his friend.


_First South Park fic._

_I had a dream yesterday that was something like this. It was so epic that I literally leaped out of bed so I could write it. _

_I do apologize for any confusion this tale causes. It really was like a spire of the moment kind of thing. As for pairings… I guess you could say Style but that's if you look REALLY hard._

**Because He's My Best Friend**

"STAN!"

My cry echoed in the hallway, bouncing off it's cold paper-covered walls and coming right back to me. There was no reply but I wouldn't give up. I know Stan was in this place, somewhere locked up in this place. My side hurts terribly and I can feel blood soaking through my orange jacket. The bitch had came at me with a knife, shouting at me to 'stay away from her child'. She was some whack job that lived in the mountain with her husband, just outside of South Park. They were like hermits, barely coming down to town but, even so, no one would have suspected them of this. Of kidnapping.

It had been two months since Stan's disappearance. He'd been walking home from school, alone. I stayed home because I had the flu, otherwise I would have been with him. Why he was even alone in the first place was a mystery to me. Usually Kenny or Fat Ass would be with him but, today, he left practice by himself. The last person who saw him was Kenny but he didn't help much with the investigation. There was really nothing he could tell that would help the police find Stan.

I didn't hear about it until a couple days after it happened, when Stan's mom came over to ask if he was there. Of course he wasn't here. I was sick and he wasn't going to be around here to catch it. I might have WANTED him to be here but I made him stay away. I didn't want him to catch this nasty shit.

My mom, being the nosy woman she is, asked Mrs. Marsh if she was certain Stan was missing. After all, it wasn't abnormal for one or all of us to disappear for a couple of days. Once Stan had left to go join some animal rights group. Yet, even then, he had told someone. He'd told me at least. This time, though, Stan hadn't said anything to me.

Maybe this was where I first began to worry.

Then, came the police report. It was broadcasted all over the news. Stan's picture flashed all of the place, followed by his description and where he was last seen. Looking at him, he looked like he always did. Shaggy black hair, always covered by his red and blue hat and clear blue eyes that were alight with mirth. He had a bit more muscle on him from playing football but he was still slim as ever. I wouldn't say it aloud but he had grown up pretty good. No wonder Wendy had finally begun to pay attention to him. Though, that might have been due to the fact Stan had stopped throwing up every time she came by. Now they couldn't be parted. It was almost nauseating really.

I figured that, since Stan and Wendy were dating, that she would know where he was. When I asked her at school, she just shook her head.

"I haven't heard from him and I can't get a hold of him. His phone is shut off."

My worry only increased after that. Stan always kept his phone on. Why would he turn it off? And where the hell was he anyway?

Three weeks passed and there was no word. No lead. No sign of Stan.

I tried everything to help. I joined the search party, gave up Stan's hiding spots (except his super-secret ones) - everything. Still nothing. My insides were knotted with worry, always twisting when I glanced at Stan's empty desk or his empty place at the lunch table. Even Cartman seemed a little worried but, whenever Stan was mentioned, he'd just make some comment about us being 'fags' then walk away. He was so insensitive and it pissed me off so much! I finally lost it and punched him right in his fat face, breaking his nose. Luckily Kenny had been there to pull me off before I tore that fat fuck apart.

Actually, Kenny helped me a lot while Stan was gone. He became the person who would keep me calm and would restrain me from killing Fat Ass. Lucky for him. After that, I barely spoke to Cartman. Growing up, all he ever did was make fun of me and pick on me. I endured it too, just ignored most of it. But this… his insensitivity towards Stan's disappearance was something I couldn't just brush aside. Stan was supposed to be our friend but he just pushed the man aside like he was nothing. I refused to talk to him.

The group dwindled down to just me and Kenny. Nearly a month went by without word or sign of Stan but I always had hope. I knew that, one day, I would wake up and learn they had found Stan, that the bastard had just run away to some PETA rally or something. My hope held out and I guess that's what kept me together.

Then, they called off the search party. Stan's parents had accepted the fact that their son might never be found and said they'd had enough. I think that's when I finally broke down. Kenny held me as I cried and he tried to comfort me even though he was crying as well. I never felt this way before. It felt as though part of my heart was missing, that someone had just come along and snatched it away. Just like they had Stan.

School went back to normal after that. It seemed that everyone had given up on Stan. Everyone except me. I refused to believe Stan was dead. He couldn't be, I mean… he was _STAN_. Stan didn't die like that. He wouldn't. He was too strong for that. I decided to pick up where the search party left off. I even convinced Kenny into helping me, even though it seemed that he too had accepted the fact Stan probably wouldn't come home.

We searched, day after day, following the police reports and such as we tried to find something. Anything. I just needed a single clue to his whereabouts.

Then, we got a break.

One day, after school let out, Kenny and I were walking to my house when we heard a scream. The sound was unmistakable; Tweek. He was the only guy I knew who's scream I could recognize. Kenny and I ran towards it, turning the corner and saw Tweek huddled against the wall of a music store with Craig at his side. The twitchy kid was bawling his eyes out and clinging to Craig, burying his face in the teen's blue hoodie.

"What happened?" I asked.

Craig looked up from his friend, looking at me as if he was annoyed. Or angry. "Some fucker just tried to grab Tweek." He stated, his dark eyes almost black and burning with anger. "I was in the store for less than a minute when I heard Tweek screaming his head off. When I got back out, I saw some man trying to pull him into his car. I punched the mother fucker, broke his nose probably." He lifted his right hand, showing that it was slightly bloodied. He put his hand down, putting it back around Tweek as he rubbed his back. "But they drove off a little while before you showed up." Tweek's wails finally calmed down but he was still shaking pretty badly. He seemed to refuse to let go of Craig.

"Did you get a good look at them?" I asked, looking at Craig again.

After a while, we finally got some information about the guy who tried kidnapping Tweek. It certainly didn't sound like anyone I knew and Kenny said he didn't know either. Tweek calmed down enough to at least look at us and we coaxed him into reporting this to the police. He wouldn't let go of Craig the entire time.

If someone had tried to kidnap Tweek, maybe it was the same guy who took Stan. We told the police and they said they'd look into it but it wasn't good enough for me. Going by Craig's description of the car, I searched all around town for it. No one in this town seemed to own a '89 blue Pontiac Sunbird. For a while I thought Craig had been wrong or he hadn't gotten a good look at the vehicle, until Butters came to me and said he'd saw the car I had been looking for. It usually parked outside of _Raisins _around six o'clock. This was probably the best thing I'd ever heard.

That evening, I convinced Kenny into helping me. We hopped into his old pick-up truck and drove out to the restaurant. It was like a pre-teen version of _Hooters _and, to be frank, it was a little creepy to know some guy just sat out here everyday. Why, he was probably waiting for some little girl to come out so he could snatch her up. Kenny mentioned he used to come around here, just to peak at the girls. Of course, since he was fifteen, I guess it really wasn't that bad. Age-wise at least. But it only reminded me that Kenny just needed to find someone and to stop being a whore. He'd already slept with most of the girls in the school (excluding Wendy) and even some of the boys. Those were just rumors but I doubt Kenny would be shy about admitting his 'activities'.

We waited outside for maybe an hour before we spotted the car. It parked in the lot and just sat there for the longest time. I really didn't want to imagine what the guy was doing. Not in a place like this. Finally, after two hours, the guy started driving away and we followed. Kenny kept a manageable distance from him but kept the blue car within our site. We drove out of town and into the mountains, back onto a dirt road. By then, it was pretty dark and Kenny decided it was best that they went on foot from here on out. He parked the truck in the ditch and grabbed his pistol before we started walking down the dirt road.

I don't think I'll ever forget this night. We walked for maybe twenty minutes, keeping close and quiet. Kenny tucked his pistol in the pocket of his jacket, keeping it on him 'just in case'. Just in case what? That they get in a fight with these creeps? So many thing went through my head. What if these were the people who had Stan? What if Stan was in there, right now, scared and hurt? It made my heart clench but my blood raced and my body shook with anticipation. If Stan really was in there, I was going to get him out.

The house was like a cabin. Built from wood and looked cozy, even had smoke coming out of the chimney. It seemed homely but I reminded myself of what could be inside. Monstrous people who possible had my best friend captive.

Kenny and I crept up the front, keeping out of the light and approached the window. We pressed our back to the wooden wall, Kenny next to the window. He peaked inside then looked away, looking at me. He nodded; they were in there. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a switch blade and handed it to me. I looked at him quizzically but he just smiled.

"Just in case you need it."

We were about to go around the house when I heard a _thump_ coming from in the house. Fear finally began crawling over me and I pressed myself against the wall, my breath forming a cloud from the cold air. Kenny peaked through the window again and I saw his eyes widen.

"_What is it?_" I asked, speaking in my softest whisper. But my answer was soon answered when I heard a male cry out. _Stan. _There was another loud _thump_, which was then followed by a man cursing.

I tried to see through the window but Kenny pushed me back. I glared at him, demanding that I see but he shook his head. _"You shouldn't."_

I didn't like the sound of that.

After a moment, we heard the footsteps retreating and the living room lights went off. Kenny and I snuck around back, carefully climbing up the back porch and approached the door. Kenny took back the knife and he quietly unlocked the door. How he did it so quick was beyond me but I didn't question it and just took the knife back. When we entered the house, we were met with warmth and the stench of mold and garbage and decay. The warmth was from the fire that still burned in the living room but this stink was from who ever lived here.

Walking carefully through the house, I looked everywhere, looking for some sign as to where Stan was. We tried to be quiet, we really did, but it was hard to move in the dark. I ended up running into something, a vase or something because the next thing I heard was glass crashing on the stone floor. I gasped, stepping back and looked up, hearing a rush of footsteps.

"That lil' bastard bedder not 'ave gotten out again!" a man cursed as he came down the steps. Kenny and I barely had time to react when the light came on, revealing our position. The man was large, muscular, with dark brown hair that looked shaggy and dirty. His eyes went wild then narrowed furiously.

"WHATTA DOIN' IN MY HOUSE?!" He roared and came at us. Kenny and I split, Kenny going one way and him going the other as we dodged him. The man picked an axe that rested near the door and started swinging it at us, shouting for us to get out. He seemed deranged and it scared the shit out of me. I ducked down, feeling a breeze just above my head as he axe swung by, narrowly missing me. I crawled on the floor, getting away from the man and stood back up, continuing to back away from him. The woman finally came down and she shrieked at the sight of us.

_BANG!_

The man who was coming at me with the axe again lurched forward and reached over, clutching his shoulder. Behind him, I saw Kenny hold out his pistol, his blue eyes narrowed and cold looking. He looked at me, "Kyle! Go find Stan!"

I must have been in a daze because, once I heard 'Stan' I nodded and started upstairs. The woman cried out and I heard her come after me. I was nearly to the steps when I felt her grab my jacket, making me loose my balance. I barely had enough time to catch myself when I hit the floor. The woman, meanwhile, was going berserk, shouting things like _'I won't let you take him! Stay away! Stay away!' _

I cried out, feeling something stab me in the side and the pain that followed. I can't tell if she actually hit anything but it did hurt. I rolled beneath her, pulling out my switchblade and slashed at her. I didn't want to hurt her but I wanted her off of me. She screamed and fell back, dropping the kitchen knife she held as she reached over and clutched her now bleeding shoulder.

Not really caring about her, I scrambled to my feet and darted upstairs.

"STAN!"

I shouted the name, praying I would hear a response. I went from door to door, throwing them open and looking inside, as if expecting to see Stan just standing in there, waiting for me. I checked just about every room until I was met with a locked door. I jiggled the knob, my hands shaking as my blood raced with adrenaline. Then, I realized that this door was locked from the outside. Not the inside. My breath quickened and I backed up a little before ramming my shoulder into the door. It took a couple more times but, finally, the door gave way and I stumbled into the room. I was met with darkness and I blinked, looking around as I tried to see the contents within.

"S-Stan?" I called out, hoping I would hear him. My heart was hammering hard in my ears, just about blocking out all other sounds. But, I heard it. It was a low sound, like a moan or whimper. I turned, finally able to see a little more in the darkness. I saw a bed and a form, huddled on it. My heart jumped.

"Stan?" I reached out, touching the figure's shoulder, nearly flinching from how cold his skin was. It was bare, I knew, and it felt dirty. He (as I had determined that this was a male) moaned again and tried moving away.

Downstairs, I could hear more sounds. Kenny was up against the axe man and that deranged woman. The only advantage he had over them was that he had a gun. And he couldn't really die.

I knew we didn't have much time. Those people could be up here in a matter of seconds. "Come on, Stan! Get up!" He rolled him over onto his back, trying to shake him awake. Even in the dim light, I could still see how damaged he was. His body was thin and shrunken, as if he hadn't eaten in a long time. He was also only dressed in a thin shirt and jeans, something that was more suitable for summer than dead winter. But, even with all of this, I could still see that it was Stan. My Stan.

My heart twisted and, for a moment, I felt like crying. From relief, from horror, from… something. I felt so much right then that I didn't know what to feel. I had found Stan, alive just like I had wanted to. But, to see him like this… it was horrible.

"Stan…" My voice broke a little and I tried shaking him awake. "Wake up Stan, come on."

In the dark, I could see Stan's eyes flutter open and he looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on me. At first, he flinched away from me but then he blinked and looked at me again.

"Ky… Kyle?"

His voice was low and raspy, so weak sounded. So unlike Stan. It literally scared me. What had happened to my best friend? He spoke as if he had never seen me before. It frightened me but I held myself together.

"Yeah, it's me dude. Now come on, I'm going to get you out of here." I put my arm around his too thing shoulders and helped him up, my heart clenching when I felt how light Stan had become. He'd always been slender but he at least weighed something because of the muscle he'd built. Right now, he couldn't weigh more than me or even Butters.

I was helping him out into the hallway when I heard a gun shot. We both froze and listened, only to hear another shot. Had that been Kenny? Had Kenny gotten them or… had they gotten to Kenny? I wasn't sure but I knew I wouldn't be able to handle both of them. One at a time, maybe, but not both. Especially if it was that man with the axe.

Stan leaned against me heavily, close to passing back. Now that we were out in the light, I was able to see him more clearer. Though, I really didn't want to. His shirt had bloodstains on them, some old and some new, and his uncovered skin was just covered with bruises. I could literally see the finger prints on his body, on his arms and neck. Dark circles were under his eyes, evidence that he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, though one eye was darker and was starting to swell. His breathing too… it was different. Almost as if he were having trouble. I suddenly hoped that his asthma wasn't acting up or else we'd be screwed.

There was silence downstairs and, for a moment, I was afraid of going down there. But then, I heard a voice.

"Kyle? Did you find him?" It was Kenny.

I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "Yeah I got him but he's not in good shape."

Kenny came up then and his eyes widened at the sight of Stan. "Oh man…" He put the gun back into the pocket of his orange parka and came over to us, putting his arm around Stan as we both helped him downstairs.

I knew Kenny had killed the man and woman. I could smell them and there was blood on Kenny's face and clothes. As we walked downstairs, I kept my eyes looking forward and didn't look at the bodies as we passed over them. I think I nearly tripped over one of them but I refused to look down. All I knew was that we needed to get Stan out of here.

Finally, we made it outside and the cold air hit us like a brick wall. Despite being used to this type of weather, shivers coursed through my body, mostly centered along my side. But then, I realized it wasn't only me who was shivering.

Stan was too. He huddled close to us, trying to soak up our body warmth as he shivered.

"Wait Kenny." We stopped and I peeled off my coat, putting it on Stan and zipping it up. It wasn't much but, hopefully, it would help protect him from the cold. It wasn't until we started walking when we noticed Stan wasn't wearing any shoes. Hell, he wasn't even wearing socks. I had been so frantic about getting him out of the house that I hadn't even checked it he was wearing fucking shoes!

"I'll carry him." Kenny offered and, before I could say anything, he was already hoisting Stan onto his back. Semi-conscious, the teen made a noise and his eyes flickered open, landing on me. They looked frightened and confused yet, somewhere in those depths, I could see recognition. Did he at least know who we were?

Kenny slipped Stan's arms around his neck, putting his arms underneath the other to make sure he wouldn't call off. Still, Stan continued looking at me.

I reaching out to him, putting me hand on his back as we started off again. Stan still looked at me. "Kyle…" He whispered against Kenny's shoulder, his voice barely able to be heard. If it weren't for the fact I was walking so close to them, I might not have heard him.

When we finally got back to the truck, I was shivering from the cold. I had a long sleeved shirt on but that could only do so much in negative ten degrees. Kenny had put Stan in on the passenger side and I got in after him. Stan looked ready to fall asleep now. But, he looked at me and I looked at him.

"Kyle…" He whispered my name though it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah, I'm here Stan." I reassured, finally putting an arm around him. That was probably when Stan began tearing him. He leaned against me, clinging to me as I held him and just cried. Holding back my own tears, I gently ran my hand through his hair, ignoring how oily and dirty it felt. I was just focused on him, my best friend.

"It's okay now Stan. We've got you."

Kenny started up the truck and we drove off, driving to the hospital. Through the drive, I kept holding Stan, making sure he knew I was here. He seemed so different now, so fragile and completely unlike what he used to be. I couldn't help but hold him. If I let him go, I feared he would break and I would loose him. I can't loose Stan. He means too much to me. So I hold onto him, reassuring him that I was there and everything would all right.

After all, that's what friends do for one another.


End file.
